


Wrong Side of Town

by jessahmewren



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, First Kiss, M/M, Merriell as a Greaser basically, Sexuality, Sledgefu Week 2019, mostly Eugene pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 06:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18794857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessahmewren/pseuds/jessahmewren
Summary: 1950's AU where Eugene, a typical high school teen, has a clandestine encounter with stranger Merriell Shelton and it changes his life.





	Wrong Side of Town

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 6 of Sledgefu Week: Alternate Eras.

-0-0-0-

Eugene shrugged further into the booth of the bright diner, his malted shake forgotten.  The history book in front of him looked monolithic, and he wasn’t any further along with his studying than when he had started hours ago.  He looked at the large clock on the wall above the soda counter; he would have to be getting home soon. 

He was about to give up studying altogether when a little bell above the door of the diner rang.  Simple curiosity bade him to glance in that direction, where a slim, dark man around the same age as him darted in, both cautious and cocky. 

He stuck out among the shiny brushed chrome and red vinyl cheer of the Tik Tok Diner.  He was dark, with slicked back curls that bunched in a tantalizing bouquet at the nape of his slender neck, and a well-oiled leather jacket and stiff denim jeans cuffed at the ankle.  His large, luminous eyes had a hunted expression, blue-green like the set in his mother’s ring, and they glowed in the neon lights of the little eating establishment as he nervously fingered the menu.

Eugene realized, with a nervous flex of his fingers across the scarred Formica, that he was staring at him.  He swallowed thickly, taking a sip of his warm shake to have something to do with his hands. 

It was sunset, and the ribbons of light from the day’s sun unfurled through the window, surrounding the stranger in beams of pure gold, buttercream and sherbet.  They painted his profile…the fine jut of his nose and that sharp angular jaw in sharp relief against the rest of his environment.  The brill cream in his hair glittered in the sun, so perfectly styled, and the stranger looked longingly into the setting sun as if those magnetic eyes could stop its momentum toward the horizon. 

Just then, a portly cook made his way over to him, and Eugene could only guess what he was saying.  “We don’t want any trouble.  You best be on your way now.”  Mr. Elms was always on the defensive about new kids, especially about those types.  But the stranger just looked up at him with those large eyes slitted, elbows drawn and planted firmly on the table and drawled, “I just wanna hamburger.  Nothing else.” 

He said it so casually that Eugene must wonder how many times a day he fielded misunderstandings about his appearance or intentions.  The way he carried himself was cagey, sure, and he did look like society’s idea of a troublemaker, but he had a sensitive face.  The way he used his hands to talk to the waitress…well there was a certain grace in that. 

Eugene swallowed hard, something warm and pinched blooming deep in his chest.  A packet of cigarettes peeked out of the pocket of the stranger’s jacket.  Eugene squinted, trying to read the label.  It was a brand he’d never heard of. 

He shook his head, burying himself deliberately in his history book once more, and let the man eat his meal.  He could feel him watching him, though, in the casual way those aquamarine eyes would snag in his direction, a sardonic smile on the stranger’s face as he chewed his food. 

And then he was walking in his direction. 

Not to him, but past him, to the jukebox in the back of the small diner.  A few people stared at him, at his rolled jeans where all the boys wore slacks.  A few of the girls slid over in the booth to give him a wide birth.  Lips tugged up in a smile at that, and he tipped an imaginary hat to them at their discomfort, enjoying toying with them. 

A coin went in, and a record dropped.  “Almost Like Being in Love” by Lester Young began to drift through the little diner, its slow, bluesy, dulcet tones making a few patrons tap their feet. 

A few steps past Eugene and he swung into the booth opposite him. 

“How’do,” he drawled lazily.  “You got something you wanna say to me?”

Eugene’s heart started hammering in his chest, and immediately his eyes fell to the clean white t-shirt stretched over the stranger’s taut chest. He was all compact muscle, from what Eugene could tell under the jacket.  Small and strong and wiry.

The man pulled his full upper lip between his teeth and looked down at the table between them.  “It’s just that I saw you looking at me from across the diner and, the way I see it, people always got something to say when they look at you like that.” 

Those large eyes pinned him then, and Eugene froze under their pale gaze, even larger and more ghostly than he had imagined close up.  “Hi,” Eugene managed, his face burning red with a deep blush as he noticed an odd-brand cigarette tucked behind the man’s ear. 

Then, the stranger laughed.  It was almost wicked-sounding, those plush lips stretching over sharp, feline teeth, but Eugene was mesmerized.  “Is that all you got, church boy?”  He took the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it, blowing smoke up into the air between them. 

The nickname hit sour.  He was more than his parents or this town.  Or at least he aspired to be. 

“My name’s Eugene.” 

The stranger raised his chin, his eyes keen.  “Merriell,” he rumbled.  “Nice to make your acquaintance.”  He stuck out one dark hand and Eugene took it, shaking it with half-hearted grace. 

“Say, Genie, you know where the bus stop is around here?”  He blew a smoke ring as he eyed the little diner, then his eyes flitted back to Eugene.  “Seems like I’ve found myself on the wrong side of town.” 

Eugene thrilled, happy to be of some use.  “Uh sure.  I mean I can show you if you like,” he said nervously.  “The bus stop, I mean.” 

Merriell nodded knowingly, pinching his cigarette out and tucking it back behind his ear. 

They left the little diner, Eugene leading the way.  Merriell had one hand shoved in his pockets, and he was smoking again. 

“You think you ought to be walking the streets with strangers after dark Genie,” he said with a sly grin.  “What would your mama and daddy say?”  In the darkness, his teeth shown white and menacing. 

Eugene shrugged.  “They would be happy I was helping out someone in need,” he said dismissively as he hoisted the strap of his heavy books over one shoulder.  “Besides, it’s not far now.” 

They rounded a corner with only a few streetlamps, and as they passed an alleyway, Merriell smoothly slipped an arm around Eugene and had him pinned up against the brick wall and hidden in shadow in seconds.  Eugene heard the whisper of his switchblade before his brain could process what had happened. 

“What would mama and daddy think now, Eugene?” Merriell’s face was all sharp angles and those haunting eyes looked opalescent in the moonlight. 

Eugene fought to keep his panic down, the cold steel of the knife pressed firmly against ribs.  He swallowed thickly, cursing himself for being so stupid.  Maybe he really was an archetype of this dumbfuck town—

Before he could process much else, Merriell was kissing him.  The knife was long gone, disappeared, the aggressive hold on him lessened to a gentle caress, those dark hands tracing circles on his waist, thumbing his wrists against the moss-covered wall. 

And Eugene, who had never looked at a man in _that way_ at all, was kissing him back.  One hand traced that endless jawline, while the other reached beneath his jacket to scratch at the firm muscles that lay barely hidden by that thin white shirt.

Merriell moaned, moving to nip at his neck, his collar bones, planting his tongue in the hollow of his throat. 

“You’re gonna miss your bus,” Eugene panted, and the laugh from the other man vibrated his throat. 

“Don’t need no bus,” Merriel drawled as he licked a drop of sweat from just below Eugene’s ear.  “Live just across the tracks.” 

Eugene laughed, claiming his lips again, lost in the taste of him, cigarettes and cola.  The leather and sweat and cigarette musk of this man who had been his first kiss. 

“I’m glad you got lost anyway,” Eugene said a little breathlessly.  He locked eyes with Merriell’s, no longer intimidated by their strange luminescence.  Instead, entranced by their light. 

“Hmm,” Merriell said as he nudged at his neck.  “Gonna do it again sometime real soon.”  He pulled away.  “But I do got to be getting on back,” he said quietly.  He bit his lip.  “And so do you.”

Eugene nodded.  He was right, and he hated it.  His parents expected him.  He had a history test tomorrow.  He had a curfew.  He had school and all the banal rituals of his life and none of them included what just happened between him and Merriell despite the fact that he very much wanted them to.  It was suddenly the worst feeling in the world. 

“I know.” 

Merriell backed away walking south down the alley.  “Don’t talk to any more strangers, Genie.  It’s dangerous!”  His wide grin was the last thing he saw as night swallowed him up. 

-0-0-0-

 


End file.
